


Four Twenty

by skeleton_narration



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Ao3 spells jason funderburker wrong but whatever, Brotherly Bonding, Comedy, Gen, Humor, Other, Stoner Wirt, Underage Drug Use, it’s weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_narration/pseuds/skeleton_narration
Summary: Wirt introduced Greg to weed, as all good brothers do.
Relationships: Gregory & Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Four Twenty

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to start this off by reminding people to enjoy weed safely. While it isn’t the harshest drug it’s still a drug and must be consumed responsibly. 
> 
> Greg is roughly 16 in this and Wirt is about 23.
> 
> This is basically a recreation of when I got my best friend high for the first time, happy 4/20/2020.  
> Also, I’m sorry.

Wirt was visiting from college. 

While Boston University wasn’t far from their sleepy little town, only an hour out, it was still hard for Wort to make it over as much as he wanted to. Honestly, he also enjoyed college life. While he missed his mom, stepdad and Greg, he liked the small apartment that he and Sara had managed to find, roping two other friends in to help with rent. It was decent enough that he stayed there, now reaching the end of his senior year. 

But he was home now, and it was nice. He didn’t need to cook dinner ever, his mom seeming affronted whenever he suggested it. It was only for the long weekend but Wirt didn’t have any assignments and he was happy to just spend time lounging with Greg.

After the Unknown, their relationship had improved drastically. They didn’t talk much about it now, Wirt didn’t want to but he didn’t deny the effect it had on their relationship as brothers. Growing up they started to spend more time together, even if it was just Wirt’s high school years. College sucked for that, he missed his little brother. He counted him lucky he could see him so often though. It was easy when he lived at home, Greg just coming into his room whenever he wanted to hangout which was most of the time. With college that just turned into a lot of calling. 

It was him this time that went to Greg’s room, knocking on the door before he went in. Greg always left his door partly open unless he was asleep. Greg still piped up from the inside. He shifted the small wooden box he had in his hands as he pushed the door open. 

“It’s open!” He invited his brother, a deep croak coming from the frog in his room. Jason Funderbuker opened his eyes slowly from where he was curled up under a heat lamp.  _ Ro-rop. _   


Wirt handed the small wooden box to Greg as he passed, his brother instantly rifling through it. 

Wirt went over to him, giving the frog a gentle scratch on the head that lulled him back to sleep. He then began opening Greg’s windows.

“What are you doing that for?” Greg asked, turning up Jason Funderburker’s heat lamp and giving the frog a small blanket for good measure.

“The smell,” Wirt explained. 

Their parents might be fine with weed but Wirt wasn’t going to let it stink up everything Greg owned. 

His brother was sitting on the floor, watching him before Wirt sat down next to him. He suddenly felt nervous like it was his first time smoking again and Sara was passing him a joint. It wasn’t his first time but it certainly was Greg’s.

Wirt didn’t think that being a good older brother meant introducing your younger sibling to weed but it wasn’t like Wirt was risking Greg getting into trouble. Still, he was more nervous about this than Greg was.

Greg was inspecting the small bowl that Wirt kept in the box, setting it down to instead look at the only bong that fit in there. Not that Wirt had a lot, he barely smoked and even when he did get high, he preferred edibles. But Greg had wanted the “full stoner experience”. 

“Most stoners have cool bongs, yours is boring,” Greg stated, sticking his tongue out. 

“I’m not— I’m not a stoner,” Wirt refuted, face flushing as he grabbed the bong (“Hey!”) from Greg’s hands. 

He wasn’t, but he did like the floating feeling and it was nice to have that sometimes. It was relaxing, slowing down his all-consuming thoughts for a second. He liked writing poetry sometimes when he was high, too.

“Mom says you’re a stoner,” Greg snickered.

“Mom is the  _ real  _ stoner. Have you never heard her talk about high school?”

“No, I think that’s dad,” Greg shook his head and Wirt just shrugged, figuring that since Greg was there more often he knew best. 

“Just, whatever,” he brushed off, clearing his throat and ignoring Greg’s smile, “Not a stoner. Anyway. I don’t have like, joints or anything. So, bowl or bong?” He offered, gesturing to both before realizing he had made a mistake. Greg couldn’t hit it from a bong. He was going to die if he did that.

Greg hummed, tapping his chin as he thought seriously about the options on hand. 

“Bongs are harder for beginners,” Wirt quickly said, “Let’s just do the bowl.” 

“But Wirt,” Greg pouted, “I want the stoner experience and in the movies, they’re always using a bong.” 

Wirt was not going to give into him.

“Bongs are overrated,” he said, already going to put it back in the box.

Greg’s eyes just widened, his brother guilting him over which method to  _ smoke weed _ . Wirt looked at the bong, and then back at Greg, and then the bong again. 

“Nope,” he gave a firm shake of his head, putting the bong back into the small box while taking out the already ground up weed.

“Wiirrrrt,” Greg whined, tipping his head back till it hit his bed. Wirt ignored him, packing the bowl he held in his hand. It was small and easy enough to use. His biggest concern was Greg burning his finger. Wirt was going to be the one lighting it. No risk there.

“Here,” he handed it to Greg who looked at it, surprisingly careful so he didn’t spill anything. 

“How do I hold it?” Greg looked up at him, a smile on his face.

“Right, yeah— like this,” Wirt reached over to Greg, taking back the bowl for a second. He paused, looking back at his younger brother. He wanted to give him the first hit but it was better if he showed him first. It was probably better too? For Greg, so that he wasn’t taking the hardest hit for his first try. “Do you just want me to show you?” 

Greg considered it for a second before nodding his head. Wirt lifted the bowl to his lips before he paused. He looked back to the sleeping frog. Jason Funderburker opened an eye and croaked at him. Wirt was sure that he was worried for no actual reason, frogs lungs were probably weird but still, he had never smoked around an animal before and didn’t want to hurt him.

“We should take him out of the room. Even with the windows open, I mean, I don’t know how smoke would affect his lungs,” Wirt looked back over to Greg, who blinked at him. There was an easy smile on his face knowing his brother well and used to his worry. Sometimes he understood why right away. 

“Yeah, good idea,” he said, getting up, “C’mon frog o’ ours, you’ll just be right outside the door and you can keep sleeping if you want,” he gently scooped the frog into his arms along with his blanket. He gently set him outside the door where they could see him. Wirt gave him the heat lamp and once the frog was situated, they both got comfortable again.

He lifted the bowl to his mouth, his thumb sliding over the caper automatically. He looked at Greg before carefully taking the lighter, sparking the flower in the bowl and inhaling, removing his finger when he pulled away from it. He held the smoke before slowly exhaling, coughing just slightly. He had forgotten about the lingering burn that it left, reminding him why he preferred edibles. He offered the bowl to Greg, keeping the lighter in his hand. 

Greg took the bowl and looked at Wirt when he held it, suddenly seeming lost.

“Okay so, you put a finger here,” Wirt demonstrated, pressing his thumb against the small hole on the side, “And you inhale with it covered, then you take your finger off of it and release,” he explained, replacing Greg’s thumb with his quickly and finally giving it to his younger brother, “It’s still lit from when I hit it so you should be fine.”

Greg kept his finger tightly pressed against the caper, not wanting to lose the fire in it. He inhaled the smoke quickly, releasing his thumb fast to release the smoke stuck in there before covering the caper back up. 

His eyes went wide with the sudden smoke in his lungs. 

“Greg, let it out!” Wirt told him and Greg released the smoke, coughing into his arm. Wirt patted his back. 

“Gosh, that was a hard hit. I’m weirdly proud? But are you okay? Do you need water?” Wirt asked, brows furrowing as he looked at his younger brother in concern. Greg kept coughing and Wirt’s hands hovered near, worried, “I almost puked the first time I smoked. Do you feel like puking? Did you hit too hard?”

Greg took a moment to breathe, not answering Wirt. “Water sounds like a great idea,” he said, tasting the smoke in his mouth still. “My head feels floaty,” he looked at work, blinking slowly.

Wirt laughed, light and free. 

“Let’s get you some water,” he stood onto his feet slowly.

“We should watch a movie,” Greg suggested. Wirt just hummed in agreement, taking their trusty frog into his arms.

They managed to get all of the necessary items out to the living room. The two of them settled on the couch, Greg took a few more pulls of the bowl while Wirt smoked idly. They had set Jason Funderburker somewhere upwind of them, still distant and out of the smokes way. Greg shifted how he sat, stretching out his legs while leaning his back against Wirt. He let his brother settle against him.

Greg was mumbling something incoherent to Jason Funderburker who had noticed the free space in Greg’s lap. The quiet chatter of his brother to his frog turned into background noise.

Wirt didn’t know what movie Greg had put on. He was focused on his small moleskin in the dim living room lighting. He wrote slowly, each word languid and looped as he took his time with the poem.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder

Yet the pull in my chest

The burn that grows warmer

Spanned by times test

Fate itself lies betwixt

Our very sou—

“Wirt, I’m hungry,” Greg lolled his head onto Wirt’s shoulder, causing the ‘l’ on his page to turn into a wavy figure. It hadn’t occurred to him till then that it had been a while since Greg had said anything. His brother had been quiet for a long time. 

“Oh,” he looked at Greg. His eyes were squinted and red. Wirt laughed.

“You’re so high,” he shook his head at him, smiling. 

“And I’m hungry.”

“What do you want to eat?” 

Greg paused, face scrunching up as he thought about it. 

“Pizza,” he answered.

“Pizza?” Wirt questioned.

“And breadsticks, with cheese,” Greg said, his voice full of determination.

“So, cheese sticks?” Wirt asked.

“No, breadsticks with cheese,” Greg repeated himself in a much more serious tone. 

Wirt just decided that he was asking for both, “What type of toppings?” 

“Um, pineapple,” Greg stated, “And bacon,” he nodded, his resolve unbreakable. 

“Anything else?” He asked, unable to stop smiling at how his brother had just gone straight to relaxing. Greg was usually bouncing around, always moving, it was nice to see him slow down for a second. Wirt knew what it was like for your brain to constantly being on the go. 

Greg didn’t say anything, just going into the kitchen without another word.

“Greg?” He called out to him, his younger brother didn’t respond. Wirt looked over the couch, trying to see what he was doing. He could see him doing… something. He figured that Greg would call out if he needed Wirt. He was fine. Wirt just grabbed his phone and called the closest and best option they had for pizza. While he hated phone conversations, he was a grandfather with technology and didn’t want to bother with figuring out the website.

When the pizza was ordered, he got up and headed towards the kitchen. Jason Funderburker followed him. There was a partial wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, but it was still pretty open. 

Greg was baking. He started mixing when Wirt walked in. Wirt winced against the harsh noise, going to speak when it stopped before Greg started it back up again. He waited until Greg seemed finished mixing whatever it was he was baking. He didn’t interrupt as Greg poured the batter into the muffin containers. When he was putting on the oven mitts, Wirt spoke up.

“I ordered the pizza,” he informed him.

Greg turned towards him, “Okay, cool,” he blinked slowly before going back to what he was doing. Wirt just laughed to himself again, unable to help it. 

“Greg, are you feeling okay?” he stepped closer to his younger brother, wanting to make sure he didn’t burn himself with the oven. 

“Still just floaty, it’s nice,” Greg hummed, “Am I slow? I feel slow.”

“Yeah no, that’s normal. Have you had water recently?” He knew that Greg had a cup in the living room but he hadn’t been watching him.

“I think so?” Greg was staring at the recipe, squinting as he figured out how long to keep the muffins in there. 

Wirt got him another cup of water. 

They stayed in the kitchen as the muffins baked. Greg still wasn’t saying much but Wirt was sure he was okay. He was staring at his phone so Wirt guessed that something was taking up his attention. He didn’t mind. Wirt was glad to just enjoy the company. It was nice to just be able to co-exist together and just enjoy that.

“Wirt?” Greg asked, his voice soft.

“Hm?” he leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a slow sip of his own water.

“Beatrice would have been a stoner.”

Wirt snorted, the water he was drinking going up into his nose. He barely managed to set the cup down, laughing into his hand while trying to recover from the snort. Greg had started laughing too, loud and bright. Greg laughing only made Wirt laugh harder. He buried part of his face in his hands as he laughed while Greg just buckled, sliding onto the floor next to the oven. 

It took a second until they caught their breath. When they were calm, Greg placed his head on his knees. The doorbell rang while Greg’s phone went off. While Greg handled the cupcakes (Wirt lingering to again make sure he didn’t burn himself) Wirt answered the front door, forcing himself to act calm and normal as he made a quick exchange with the delivery driver. 

They didn’t bother with plates for the pizza when they resumed their camp out in the living room. Greg had managed to get a few of the muffins onto a plate but the majority of them still sat in the kitchen. Greg had changed what they were watching, it had taken a few minutes but he eventually landed on an older cartoon. Wirt didn’t complain, he didn’t mind the choice and wouldn’t have been able to make one anyway. 

When Greg looked and saw that there were both breadsticks and cheese sticks, he nodded, satisfied. He reached down and idly stroked the back of Jason Funderburker’s head.

“Are you hungry too, Jason Funderburker?” Greg asked the frog sitting next to him. The frog croaked a negative in response and Greg nodded again.

They ate their way through the pizza and the other food that they had bought.

Greg laid on the couch above him, head up against the arm of the couch as he watched the cartoon he had put on. Wirt had their trusty frog in his lap, Jason Funderburker’s eyes were closed as he dozed off in the warmth of Wirt’s body heat, the two of them curled in the corner of the love seat. 

“I feel like an etch-a-sketch,” Greg mumbled against the arm of the couch. Wirt let out a light laugh despite himself.

“Is that bad?” He asked.

“No,” Greg said, his voice sounding as thick and slow as molasses, “Just funny.” Wirt looked over at him, seeing the easy-going smile on Greg’s face. 

“That’s good.”

“Thanks for introducing me to drugs, Wirt.”

“You’re welcome, Greg.”

“I’m going to take a nap,” Greg told him.

“Okay. Do you want a blanket?” Wirt looked at him again. Greg gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. With a protesting croak from Jason Funderburker, Wirt still got up, his legs not quite feeling like his own as he got a blanket. He grabbed one for himself while he was at it. He dropped one on top of Greg before returning to his cozy position. 

He was glad to let Greg sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to yell at me you can reach me at:  
> skeleton-narration.tumblr.com  
> prieto_art on instagram  
> @electricpurity on twitter


End file.
